


Homecoming

by Amelia_Clark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Fix-It, M/M, Season/Series 10, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel rounds the car and reaches for the door handle, and is suddenly overcome with a wave of weariness so profound he fears for a moment Adina's grace is already burning out; his hand freezes in midair before it drops.</p><p>And he just stands there, next to the car, and he knows he's not going to get back in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, Supernatural, where the fandom remembers everything and canon forgets the end of last *@^ season. Hope this is as cathartic to read as it was to write.

Hannah has barely moved when Castiel returns, sitting bolt upright in the passenger seat of the Lincoln with unfocused eyes. She turns when she sees him, rolls down the window: "Were you successful? Is he cured?"

"Yes," says Castiel. "Dean is human again." He wants to smile but doesn't, not sure how she would react; angels don't smile, and he's trying so hard to be an angel again. He doesn't think it's working.

"Good," she says. "Would you like me to drive? We have a long way to go."

"It's kind of you to offer, but no. I enjoy driving." Castiel rounds the car and reaches for the door handle, and is suddenly overcome with a wave of weariness so profound he fears for a moment Adina's grace is already burning out; his hand freezes in midair before it drops.

And he just stands there, next to the car, and he knows he's not going to get back in.

After a moment, Hannah says flatly, "You're not coming, are you?"

"No," says Castiel.

"You're turning your back on us, again. For _him,_ again." She sighs. "I don't know why I thought it would be different. I had thought, maybe, this time with me--that you would remember who you really are, that you would come back to us."

"I can't. Dean is no longer a demon, true, but he's still carrying the Mark, and I can't let him carry it alone. This _is_ who I really am, Hannah. I haven't really been an angel for a long time."

"No, you haven't." She shoots him a glance, tight-lipped, then squares her shoulders. "Fine," she says. "Am I using that correctly? I may not be human, but I know when I'm being rejected."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. It doesn't help."

"I know. You may--you can have the car, to help with your continued search. I won't need it." He moves to her window and bends down, offers her the keys. She doesn't take them, so he drops them gently onto her lap, then stands up. "Goodbye, Hannah."

There's no answer as he walks away.

*******

He finds Dean in his room, sitting up on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, tear-tracks down his face; he's startled to see Castiel, but his surprise settles into a tired smile. "Hey, Cas, I thought you were going home."

Castiel shuts the door behind him. "I am home."

Dean's smile widens to a grin, lines of joy forming at the corners of his eyes. "Really? You're not--you're gonna stay in the bunker? That's great news, man! When Sam gets back I'll have him clear out a room for you."

Shaking his head, Castiel says, "I don't mean the bunker, Dean. I mean _you,_ you're my home. You have been for a long time."

He cuts Dean off before he can speak: "No, let me say this, Dean. When Metatron told me you were dead, when he showed me the blade with your blood on it--he told me I'd done it all for you. That I'd draped myself in the flag of heaven, but I was really trying to save you. And he was right. That's still the only thing I want, Dean. To save you. To be--to be your home in return."

Dean crosses the room slowly, silent, and raises his eyes to Castiel's; they have always spoken better with their eyes, and it's all there, in the depthless pools of his pupils. Castiel doesn't need to breathe, but he's holding his breath.

"Welcome home, Cas," Dean says, and kisses him.


End file.
